At First Glance
by Hemsee
Summary: She was here every Thursday night, and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And tonight, he was going to talk to her. AU – Oliver and Felicity are college students in Boston.


**At First Glance**

Thursday night at Bar 180 was a college student special. The entry fee was waived on presentation of a valid student ID, and every drink on the menu was half off. With good music, a jazzy décor, and a soft array of blue, purple, and muted pink lights, Bar 180 had a great ambiance to it, and quickly became the place of choice to come to and unwind.

A new bottle of Grey Goose in hand, Oliver went back to the table he'd gotten with Tommy, grinning. "Shots?" he said.

Tommy laughed. "You know how it goes," he replied. "But let's wait until everyone else gets here okay?" He took the bottle of vodka from Oliver's hands, and poured a healthy shot into a glass, along with a cherry red drink mixer. "Here, have a drink."

"Thanks." Oliver settled down comfortably on the couch, placing the bottle on ice, and looking around languidly. It was almost midnight already, but most of his and Tommy's friends liked to lag, preferring to pregame in their dorm rooms instead of spending money they didn't have on expensive drinks at the bar.

It was a pity, really. Oliver still couldn't recall that unfortunate night his freshman year when he had made the decision to try Vlad without shuddering. Talk about a mistake he wasn't prepared to repeat again.

"Cheers," Tommy said, successfully luring Oliver out of his thoughts. He held up his own drink, his smile wide, and Oliver clinked his glass with his. "Let's drink until the idea of singing a Miley Cyrus song sounds like a good one."

"To getting wasted then," Oliver toasted, taking a generous sip of his drink, the burning feel of the alcohol soothed by the cool sweetness of the mixer. "Hope you don't throw up all over our couch, buddy."

"Won't be a thirsty Thursday if I don't, Oliver," Tommy said good-naturedly, an alcohol-induced flush already beginning to settle across his cheeks. Arm, draped against the back of the couch, he gestured over to the dance floor. "Hey, isn't that Sara Lance dancing over there?"

Oliver angled his head. "Looks like it."

"Damn," Tommy whistled. "Doesn't she look good – I mean, look at those _legs_."

Mile-long, tan, and on killer stiletto heels. What wasn't there to like?

"Sorry to disappoint, but Sara's taken, Tommy," Oliver said, even as he watched her dance appreciatively.

Tommy frowned. "Who? I don't see any boyfriend around."

"Not boyfriend," Oliver pointed at the gorgeous brunette Sara was dancing with. "She's with Nyssa."

Tommy's eyes became as wide as saucers, and Oliver had to fight to suppress a laugh. "You're shitting me." He turned around and, as if on command, Nyssa pulled Sara into a heated kiss. "Oh my God." He clutched his heart comically. "I didn't know Sara was gay."

"She's not."

"Bi then?"

"Nope." At Tommy's confused expression, Oliver clarified, "Sara's not big on labels. Love is love and all that. She'd been dating that lacrosse player until a couple months ago."

"Not big on labels, huh?" Tommy glanced back at Sara again. "I think I love her."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head, and turned around to pour himself another drink. He looked up at the bar just then, and his heart stumbled over its usual staccato rhythm.

His chest tightened, and he expelled a labored breath. There she was.

He didn't know her name – didn't even know what school she went to – but he'd seen her here, every Thursday night without fail, sitting at the bar with a couple of her friends, always a mojito in hand, always wearing a brightly colored outfit.

Today, it was a deep blue dress that accentuated the lovely shade of her eyes, and offset her blonde hair really nicely. It skimmed just above her mid-thigh, and offered just a hint of cleavage by way of a keyhole cut neatly at her collarbone. Her wonderful lips were painted a bright fuchsia, now parted into another one of her heart-stopping smiles.

She was quite possibly the most beautiful woman Oliver had ever seen in his entire life, and – for almost eight weeks now – had become the highlight of his Thursday nights.

"Does she look better every week or what?" Tommy said, and Oliver couldn't help but nod absently. He wasn't surprised that Tommy had noticed her too – how could he not, really? Her smile alone lit up the entire bar.

"So are you just going to be making googly-eyes at her all night or are you finally going to get the balls to talk to her?" Tommy asked.

Oliver sent him a withering look. "I'll talk to her," he replied irritably.

Tommy snorted. "In this lifetime? Before I get old?"

"Tommy, shut up." He went back to looking at her, heart twisting with something akin to longing. He honestly didn't know what it was about this particular girl that had him stumbling and tripping over himself like a thirteen year old. Oliver had never had an issue talking to girls _ever_. Charm came to him as easy as breathing.

Just then, _she _angled her head just so, and their eyes locked. Oliver's heart stumbled over in his chest, his brain short-circuiting. He didn't know what to do.

He _always _knew what to do.

She turned her head back and, just like that, the moment was over. This little dance they had going on had been happening since the first moment he'd caught a glimpse of her. She'd noticed him, just as he'd noticed her.

And neither had done a goddamn thing about it.

Frankly, Oliver was sick of it. At first, the fact that she had not come to talk to him had bewildered him. She'd kept looking at him (never mind that the reason he'd noticed was because he'd been checking her out as well) that meant she liked what she saw. Then why wasn't she doing anything about it?

He knew why _he_ hadn't – because the possibility that she _wasn't_ into him was terrifying. She was beautiful – she had the biggest, bluest, and quiet possibly the flirtiest eyes he'd ever seen – and he wanted her.

"Quit being a bitch," Tommy said. "And go talk to her. Seriously, Oliver what's the worst that can happen? So, she turns you down. At least, you'll be able to stop pining and move on with your life."

Oliver shook his head slightly, mouth curving into a smile. Tommy had always had a knack of being able to tell exactly what he was thinking.

"Fine," he said, downing the rest of his drink. "You know what? I will."

"Halle-freakin'-luiah," Tommy muttered.

Standing up, Oliver could feel the deep rhythm of the music's bass thrum through his body as he made his way to the bar. His fingers went up to nervously undo the first few buttons of his collared dress shirt. He could already feel the additional liquid courage slipping from him.

"Shot of Patron, please," Oliver said, signaling to the bartender as he leaned over the bar's counter, very aware that not two feet away from him sat the gorgeous blonde, her shoulders a hairbreadth's away from his. "And keep 'em coming."

The bartender set a shot glass in front of him and poured the tequila, setting a couple of limes on the counter. Sliding a fifty in his direction, Oliver nodded at him before he tapped the blonde on her shoulder, feeling ridiculously nervous.

She turned around – her eyes widening subtly as she looked at him – expression a mixture of uncertainty and questions. "Yes?" she said, and Oliver's heart twisted miserably in his chest. Goddamn, her voice just had to be as lovely as the rest of her, didn't it? It was sweet and soft, and had a sort of pleasant rhythm to it, and, like a flint, it spiked fire in his blood.

He swallowed, the corners of his mouth turning in a tentative smile. "I'm sorry to bother you, but could I grab that saltshaker from you?" he asked, pointing towards the hourglass-shaped object by her. As good of an opening line as any, he figured.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again before she nodded mutely. "Um, yes of course. Here you go," she said, sliding it across the counter and into his palm. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting that."

He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

She winced visibly. "That came out all wrong didn't it? It's not what I meant. Of course you'd want the saltshaker – you're taking a tequila shot, after all – it's just, I've seen you here before and I don't know, you sort of took me by surprise."

Oliver couldn't resist grinning. "So you've noticed me before?" he said, feeling oddly triumphant. He'd known it of course, but the fact that she'd admitted it made him feel considerably less crazy about the entire situation.

The flush that had steadily been building up since he'd first addressed her intensified, creeping onto her neck and disappearing underneath her neckline. Oliver watched its progression, his pupils dilating as he found himself thinking of tracing the path with his lips and teeth and tongue.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, trying to get his brain to focus. He was _finally_ talking to this beautiful girl, and there was no way in hell he was going to miss a second of it.

"Well," she began. "I mean, yeah, like I notice everybody. Except, you're not everybody, you're…" her voice trailed as her eyes roamed over his face, his chest, and arms. She swallowed, voice dropping to a whisper. "_That._"

Abruptly, she cleared her throat. "Uh, you know what? I'm going to let you get back to that shot now, before I shoot myself any further in the foot, okay? Nice talking to you –"

"Oliver," he said hastily. "Oliver Queen. And why don't you join me for a shot?" his voice trailed as he waved the bartender over.

"Felicity," she replied, still looking vaguely uncertain. "Smoak. And I guess I will."

"Felicity," Oliver said, trying out her name, liking the way it rolled off his tongue. It suited her. "So, Miss Smoak, what school do you go to?" he asked, handing her the saltshaker.

She dabbed a little on the delicate swell of her thumb. "MIT. And you?"

"Harvard." At her widening eyes, he clarified. "It's really not that big of an accomplishment. My father's an alumni and a pretty generous donor."

"Still. It's _Harvard_, and you're still there, so that must mean you're not an idiot."

Oliver smiled at her bluntness, finding it a refreshing change of pace from the empty praises and hollow flattery most of the women he talked to heaped on him. "Are you saying I'm smart?" he teased.

Felicity's lips trembled, eyes lighting up and making her impossibly more attractive. "I'm saying you're not stupid," she corrected him. "But if it works for you go for it."

"I'll drink to that," he replied, raising his glass and clinking it with hers. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she licked the swathe of salt from her hand and knocked back the tequila shot.

He followed suit, his eyes screwing shut as he felt the tequila burn a path down his throat. He immediately reached for a lime, biting down hard on it.

"So," Felicity said, shuddering slightly as she discarded her own lime. "Do you regularly invite strangers to take shots with you, Oliver Queen?"

Oliver smiled wickedly. "Only if they're as beautiful as you," he replied, waving the bartender over, who dutifully refilled their glasses with Patron again.

She gave him a look. "Now, be honest. Does that line usually work for you?" she sassed, raising a pointed eyebrow.

He shook his head, laughing. "_Usually_, I'm more savvy about it."

"Savvy huh?" Felicity said, pillowing her cheek in the palm of her hand, peeking at him through her eyelashes. The lights in the bar had dimmed just so, softening the contours of her body, and making for a pretty erotic picture. "What do you mean?"

Oliver swallowed. He clinked glasses with her and downed his shot. "There's just something about you, Felicity," he replied eventually, the alcohol buzzing in his bloodstream and lowering his inhibitions. "Every time I look at you, I catch my breath. Makes it hard to bring on my A game."

He was looking at her intensely now, his eyes roaming over the flush that had now spread to her face, the color only a few shades lighter than the one painting her very enticing lips.

Felicity cleared her throat, eyes shifting downward, twirling a nervous finger around a lock of flaxen hair. "If it makes it any better," she whispered, raising her eyes once again so that she was staring into his. "I'd say you're doing pretty well for yourself now."

Oliver's eyes darkened. "Yeah?" he whispered, voice dangerously low, inching closer towards her. He moved his hand up on the bar's wooden surface, trailing his fingers slowly up her arm, a pleasant rush flooding his body when he noticed the goose bumps flaring up in his wake.

She nodded, her eyelashes fluttering prettily, but not once did she break the stare. Oliver took it as a good sign, and lifted his hand up to cradle her cheek.

He swore he could almost feel the air between them cackle, the tension electrifying. The music had melded into the background, and he was deaf and blind to everything but _this_ and _her_ and all the potential that lay in between.

Suddenly, Felicity sighed, leaning into his touch and tilting her head upwards just so.

Oliver crashed his lips onto hers, eyes shut, a groan of victory resonating in the depths of his mind. _Finally._

She tasted even better than he'd imagined, a mixture of tequila and something sweet. It made for a heady combination, and Oliver was drunk on it.

When they broke apart, he was breathing hard – and so was she, he noted, with a small amount of victory – his hand tucked underneath her chin, and his eyes lidded, enjoying Felicity's swollen lips and the feel of her hands grasped tightly around his shirt.

She blinked profusely a couple of times. "Um…_wow_," she said finally, and Oliver could only laugh quietly in response, his heart beating at such a furious pace he could feel it thrumming in his veins. He threaded a hand in his hair, leaning slightly on the counter to have a better look at her.

Felicity's eyes were open and wide, pupils dilated so that there was only a hint of a blue iris as she looked at him. Her hands trailed down his shirt, one coming to rest upon his thigh, stoking the fire that was already building in his blood.

Dear God, she was going to be the death of him, wasn't she? Her and her wonderful eyes, and that incredibly sinful mouth.

Expelling a hard breath, Oliver felt his resolve break as he reached for her and placed another kiss on her lips. His fingers flexed over her own, a million words flitting through his brain and tangling up in his throat.

He wanted to ask her to come home with him, wanted her to spend the night and feel the warmth of her body in his bed. He wanted to open his eyes, and have her be the first thing he saw when he woke up.

But as he looked at her, took in the rawness of her expression, so painfully painted on her exquisite face, the words died on his tongue, and he knew he wouldn't ask. Partly because he had a feeling she would say no, but mostly because Oliver knew he was dealing with an entirely different kind of woman than he was used to.

She deserved better, quite simply.

"Oliver," Felicity said gently, and he closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the way she said his name. "Oliver, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied finally, tucking a lock of her hair tenderly behind her ear. "I was just wondering."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"If you would be interested in getting food, with me, tomorrow. Preferably at a restaurant," he finished, grinning.

Felicity pressed her lips together, obviously trying to suppress a smile, but there was a betraying sparkle of mirth lighting up her eyes. "Well, Mr. Queen, as it so happens, I don't have any classes from one to three tomorrow."

He did (one, and it was a stupid elective anyway) but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her that. "Perfect. I'll pick you up." He slid his phone towards her, and she quickly typed in her number.

"Where are you going to take me?" she asked, placing the phone back into his hand. Oliver glanced at it, his heart tightening briefly with an emotion he couldn't describe when he saw her name on the screen.

He winked at her, smiling wickedly. "That," he said. "Is a surprise."

"Of course." She laughed, her hand still in his, the promise of something more – something meaningful – in her eyes. "I look forward to it."

"Me too." Oliver started to open his mouth, wanting to say something else (_anything_) when someone called Felicity's name.

They both turned around, and Oliver glimpsed at an attractive brunette waving Felicity over. "Are you ready to go?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll be right there, Helena!" Felicity called back, giving Oliver an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave."

"Don't worry about it," he said easily, feeling strangely serene. He flashed her another smile. "Lunch tomorrow, yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

He watched her go, sighing a little, before he made his way back to his own table, feeling something impossibly big and important swell up inside of him.

Tommy sent him a knowing look as he sat beside him. "So," he began conversationally, sipping on his vodka soda. "It looks like it went well."

"It did. Got myself a lunch date," Oliver said proudly, still grinning like a fool.

Tommy whistled, impressed. "See what happens when you listen to me? You lucky bastard," he said, bumping fists with him. "You'll get to see her somewhere else."

"I know." He could hardly wait. Seeing her in broad daylight, outside the confines of this bar, in a novel setting – the thought was incredibly appealing.

"So, did she live up to your expectations? Or is she just another pretty face?"

Oliver looked at Tommy for a second, mouth turning upwards. "She was…unexpected. In the most amazing way," he continued. "She blew me out of the water."

Tommy laughed. "Well good. Here's to hoping you've finally found a girl who'll keep you on _your_ toes."

Oliver nodded absently, eyes fixed on his phone. After a split-second of hesitation he decided to text her, fingers roaming over the touchscreen expertly.

_See you at 1. Wear something fancy._

A moment later, she texted back:

_Something fancy huh? Is this a clue as to where you're taking me?_

_Hmm, it might be. I promise you'll like it._

_I don't doubt I will. Can't wait._

Oliver's smile softened.

_Me either._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Voila! This concludes this particular one-shot :) I know the place I left it at is sort of ambiguous, but I meant for that to happen. This story, in my mind, was only supposed to set up how Oliver and Felicity really "met" (I use the term loosely since they've been pseudo-stalking one another) in this alternate universe I created. The rest – the rest, I think, should be left up to one's imagination. The only way I could see myself expanding on this is if I could bring some meaningful substance to the date, which, at this point, I don't think I could, without making it too fluffy or too stale. It's still a possibility though, depending on what you guys think, and what I think I'll be able to bring to this.

Regardless, I would love to hear what you guys think about this one! Please, don't favorite without reviewing, and do let me know if you have any suggestions on if/where I should expand this!

Cheers!


End file.
